


Killing Me Softly

by 15stepping



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies attract, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Flashbacks, Jealousy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possibly Unrequited Love, Roman Catholicism, Sigurd lives, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, maybe smut?, some canon divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-10-08 12:24:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17386427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/15stepping/pseuds/15stepping
Summary: Aethelswith, the Princess of Wessex, will face difficult choices as the pagans and the Great Heathen Army enter England. Answering the tough questions of her own biases and contradicting thoughts of their leaders, will she be able to save any part of Wessex?- This is a rewrite of my old series "Cure for A King"





	1. Someone Must Get Hurt and It Won't Be Me

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: there are mentions of rape in this chapter. I understand this is a very traumatic experience and will try and write it as such.

Aethelswith

The smell of burning wood and bodies filled the air and sneaked through the cracks in their hiding place. All the screams still rang in her ears even though it had died down hours ago. Had it been hours? Minutes? Seconds? In the end, Aethelswith didn’t know who was alive, dead, taken, or tortured. Sooner or later, the Heathens would find her and the children who hid in the bell tower cupboard.  
Aethelswith gathered the courage to speak putting on the facade of bravery to calm the children hiding with her.  
“Bridget, Avery, Leorna, I need you to stay here. You must promise me not to leave until the Heathens are gone” she whispered to the frightened children.  
“You're not going leave us right princess?” poor blind Beth pleaded. Visibly shaking with fear.  
“ I have to go, they are looking for me and I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you. You’ll have to look after one another. Will you promise me that? “ Aethelswith asked.  
“Of course princess, if any of those Heathens come near us I’ll protect Leorna and Bridget” Avery replied cheerfully masking his own fear.  
“More like I’ll be protecting you.” Leorna quipped back despite knowing her lame leg prevented her from running like the other children. Aethelswith knew that if the Heathens found these children they would waste no time in killing them. Twisting the ring off her ring she gave it to Avery.  
“ After the Heathens leave you will need to head to York. Show this ring to Lord Benton and tell him what happened here. He will take care of you.” She told them trying to maintain a facade of strength. She began moving out of the tight cupboard space knowing she had to seek out the men that had ruin this safe haven: The Sons of Ragnar.

The stone corridors were eerily quiet as she snuck through the halls. It was as if she was entering a strange kind of purgatory as she descended through one of the stairwells. The silence wasn’t one of quiet reflection or prayer, it was the silence of death. The only thing she could hear was her own rapid heartbeat and the slow breathes she was taking in order to calm herself down. Maybe they already left… they took what they wanted and left. She told herself, naively trying to convince herself of the better outcome. Motionless she took a look out one of the narrow windows in the stairway. What she saw was out her nightmares.  
Limp dead bodies cover the grounds as Heathens took no notice of them as if they were just dirt under their shoes. The remains of burning buildings lay in ruins while men took pleasure in the women they took alive. They looked as if it was just another grand day for them as if they didn’t take the lives of innocents. A voice spoke to in her head ‘This is your fault. If you weren’t here this wouldn’t have happened. You're the reason they’re dead’. She slowly sank from the window trying to swallow back the tears and the guilt. It was the time to hate, to have no mercy for any enemy, mourning would be for later, anger and revenge would fill her heart now.  
Finally, Aethelswith strode softly through corridor trying to make it without being spotted. She could hear two voices coming closer. It was now or never. It would be better to surprise them than or for them to surprise her. Making a swift movement out of the dark she made her way towards the men, increasing the sounds of her steps. ‘Only a few feet from them now’ She thought as they suddenly became aware of her presence. A rough, calloused hand went grabbed her neck nearly crushing her neck.  
“Er den lille sauen tapt?” the mocking voice crooned. He had unforgiving black eyes, queer tattoos covering his face, and her opinion, the most ridiculous haircut she has ever seen. Another hand started caressing her face with an almost tender touch but spoke with an equally dark voice.  
“Nå bror, jeg vil ikke at du skal skade den vakre jenta for mye. Afterall, er hun ikke modig for å komme ut med å leke med oss?”. The one who spoke had cold ice blue eyes, similar facial tattoos, an attractive face, and a stupidly long brunette braid. She wasn’t going to even bother to translate what they had said to her. It was no doubt something derogatory that didn’t warrant a response. She straightened her back and spoke with all the confidence of a queen in their language.  
“Jeg er prinsesse Aethelswith, og du vil bringe meg til å se ragnars sønner”. A rather surprised look came over the men as the hand slightly loosened around her neck. She continued speaking in their language.  
“I am sure that the sons of Ragnar would like to see me unharmed and taken alive. As the granddaughter of King Ecbert, they would like me as a hostage.” slowly moving she carefully removed her earrings. They were gold with little blood red jewels in the center. It one of the few jewelry pieces she had taken with her, and now they were even more necessary to bargain for her safety.  
“As payment you may have these.” putting out her hands with the earings, seeing if it would be enough to persuade them. The blonde eagerly took them, as the brunette began to speak again. Quickly, she began translating what he was saying, silently thanking God for the lessons in the heathens language that she had been taught growing up.  
“Why would you come out now little Princess? Were getting tired hearing your Christians dying? Hmm? Surely, you know what the sons of Ragnar will do to you.” He questioned, almost, she thought, with some pity in his dark voice. “You should have stayed hidden,” he whispered as he took her arm not ungently but with urgency to take her away.  
“If I am to die on this day, then I would like to it to be over with. I believe you call it fate…” She took a pause, speaking more to herself than to them. “ Perhaps it’s my fate to die today after all the suffering I caused. Perhaps God wants me with him Heaven.” she mused to herself ignoring the snort by the blonde man. Thinking back on how this happened. thinking why had God forsaken his people in their time of need. Thinking about how this might have been her fault in some way.  
.

 

The paper faded in and out view before her. It was of no use concentrating on minuscule details of the report on the springtime plow in Streoneshalh. Aethelswith’s fingers gently tapped against the writing desk in the room she had been given at Streoneshalh. It had been about a year since Ragnar had died at the hands of King Aelle. Now, King Aelle’s limp body was lying in the forest where he had put Ragnar to death. It was only a matter of time before they came for Wessex despite the blind belief of her grandfather that the Sons of Ragnar wouldn’t attack.  
Staring out the window, her blue eyes surveyed the peaceful happenings below. The everyday tasks went unencumbered in the courtyard. Townspeople and farmers went about their business in blissful ignorance. She briefly saw Joan and Sarah heading towards the barn. Joan easily recognizable with her bright red hair escaping through her veil while Sarah blonde braids wrapped around her head under her headscarf. Please God, do not let them come here, Aethelswith thought. After the kindness some of her family had shown Ivar, would he still want of all them dead? One side thought “Yes, of course. We sent his father to his death. They’re Vikings all they know how to do is rape, plunder, steal, and murder. Naively she believed he would come through. No, he made me a promise… doesn’t that count for something? she thought while tracing her lips.

It was one of the worst places to be on the defensive with a thick fog covering the area. Against the East Cliff, facing the North Sea, on the river Esk, and a two days ride York, an attack by the Heathens would be an easy win. Surely, it would be safe enough to protect her and the people living here, right? Why would her grandfather send her back here if it wasn’t safe? Surely, the Heathens would not know of or search for her. Unless King Aelle had told them before his death about sending his daughter Heluna there. Surely, the man wouldn’t have been such a coward as to bargain his own daughter away in exchange for his own life? Aethelswith knew he didn’t like her mother’ s affair with the priest Athelstan, or fraternizing with King Ecbert, or painting of the Holy Scriptures but surely he still loved his children. The brief interactions with King Aelle left her with mixed feelings for him despite being her grandfather. He held ridiculous notions towards female intelligence and their place in the world. As for Heluna, she had few interactions with her to form a definite opinion but seemed like the perfect Christian princess.  
As if her worst fears were realized, the eery ringing of the church bells began to ring, but not for mass or to signal the hours. A cold sweat broke out among her skin as she dared to look back out the window. Black smokes mixed with the heavy fog, while the people scrambled to get away from the oncoming slaughter. The blaring sounds of foreign horns signaled the cold call of death.  
No! No! Anyone but them. Anywhere but here! Please, God, do not abandon us!  
A sickening feeling played within her mind. They were here for her or, at the very, least the demons would find her. Rooted to the ground she forced herself in a blind flurry out of her room. The corridors teemed with a flurry of rushing nuns and women running to escape the inevitable. Trying to move through panic to get somewhere, anywhere but here. Making her down the stairs through the suffocating amount of people an arm pulled through the crowd with a surprising amount of strength.  
“ Aethelswith, come with me” an elderly voice called. It was Sister Edith, her confessor. She was one to the oldest member of the convent and it showed with a heavily wrinkled face and slightly bent back. She led Aethelswith away from the crowd with surprising speed and towards the ringing bell tower.  
“Sister, we have to leave this place. It isn’t safe anymore!” Aethelswith stated. Wondering if the old lady had gone senile.  
“ Oh, I know that, but you won’t be any safer out there. Out there you’ll be easy prey for those animals” she responded. As if it was the most natural conclusion. “Besides” she continued, “ I’ve been here for twenty-five years. I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

“ But, they’ll kill you” Aethelswith whispered, not understanding why Sister Edith wouldn’t save herself.  
“Well, I think I’m ready to join God in his kingdom. I’m too old to escape now.” Sister Edith chuckled. “Now, go and hide and wait for them to leave. I have to go find Princess Heluna”. With a kiss on the cheek and a firm hug, Sister Edith shooed away to a safer place knowing that this would be their last goodbye alive.

 

Her heartbeat continued to hammer against her chest as she looked for a place to hide. How long would it take them to get there? 10 minutes? 5 minutes? 45 seconds? She was working with borrowed time and she knew it. Trying to reach higher ground, she ran through the various halls and staircases. She heard suddenly the quiet singing of a child with her hand tracing the wall. It was a sweet voice that belonged to a small girl, that could be no more than nine or ten.  
“All glory, laud, and honour  
To Thee, Redeemer, King!  
To Whom the lips of children  
Made sweet Hosannas ring,”  
Aethelswith quickly grabbed hold of the girl only to see that the girl was blind with a cloudy unnatural look. Was she left behind? Could she not keep up with the others? Why didn’t anyone help her?  
“Hello. Who are you? My name is Bridget... Did Sister Mildred send you? “ She spoke without a worry in a dreamlike state. Her hands started feeling the clothing to see what she was wearing, trying to tell if she was friend or foe.  
“ My name is Aethelswith, and we must hide quickly. The--” Aethelswith whispered quickly pulling her towards the belltower but she cut off by the girl.  
“ Princess Aethelswith!” Bridget paused trying to make what Aethelswith suspected was an attempt at a curtsey. Bridget continued in an excited voice “ It is so wonderful to meet … I remember when you came by Tamworth in Merica… before the plague came and-” she was about to continue when a crash came from outside the building. She quickly ran to one of the windows to the sight of Hell. The heathens had crashed through the gate like wolves descending on a wounded deer. They were cutting down various townspeople that had tried to take refuge from the slaughter in town. More men took the nuns that had not managed to escape, defiling their holy virtue. She could picture it in her mind, the men burning the holy church, the rape of the holy women, them dragging her beaten body to the one who had promised her that no harm would come to her. He would mock her with his hauntingly beautiful blue eyes and taunt her naivety that she had entrusted him with such a promise.  
She swiftly she turned from the horror before her and grabbed the hand of Bridget. Running as fast as she had ever done in entire life, all but dragging the girl to keep up with her. They needed to find somewhere to hide and fast. Before the heathens had made it to the upper levels. Begging God she silently prayed give us shelter, give us mercy, protect us, please merciful Lord.  
“They’re here, aren’t they? The Heathens. I can’t hear the bells ringing anymore.” Bridget whimpered. Her face was contorted with fear, knowing that the heathens had invaded their home.  
“Yes, they are here Bridget-” Aethelswith paused, the bells, the belltower… “ I know we can hide Bridget.” Running with renewed effort, they went through the small door that led to the belltower. Gripping each other hands they climbed the stairwell together. Spotting the small cupboard opening only to find two other faces peering back at her. Ignoring them she pushed Bridget in the cramped space and wiggled herself in as well.  
It was dark in the cramped cupboard space but she could barely make out the other little faces with her. One that she recognized was the face of a reedy pox-marked, flaxen-haired boy. His name was Avery, an orphan from a village about 20 miles north of Streonshalh and usually worked in the barn. The pox had nearly wiped out the village a 5 years ago, but he had survived by the grace of God. The other face was of a pretty girl with mop of brown curls. She had a crutch by her right leg. Aethelswith remembered a letter that she had been sent on the status orphanage she was the patronage of at Streonshalh. Leorna, age eleven, beamed crushed her leg in a house fire. They were able to save the girl but not her father.  
They were looking at her for what to do, for her to step up a show no fear, but instead, she was saving herself and hiding. Inside she felt like a coward, but another side of her thought was it truly wrong to try to save herself?  
“Now children, we will have to be very quiet and we might have to stay here for a long time. Do you think you can do that for me?” Aethelswith whispered, and was met several nodding heads. Trying to comfort the children around her, she wondered how long it would be until the Heathens would stop destroying the sanctuary around her and figure out that Princess Heluna and her were here under their noses. Surely, it wouldn’t take Ivar long to figure out that the best to cripple and taunt her father was to use her. The comforting knowledge that her father loved her now made her sick. What type of sick torture would they use on her to get back at him? For the first time in her life, she feared Ivar the Boneless.

 

The tightening around her arm intensified as the tow Heathen lead her to their destination. The sounds of laughter and the smells of food and alcohol were becoming more apparent as they closed, but it couldn’t stop the sickeningly sweet smell of death from sneaking into her nostrils. Then, she saw it, the bodies of the dead piled outside the church’s main door. They were heaped like discarded garbage instead of human beings.  
A black feeling crept up inside, she dug her fingernails into her skin. They aren’t human, these heathens, they are the vilest creatures of this Earth. These good Christian people had never done anything to warrant this defilement. This is my fault, she thought to herself  
Staring at the bodies, she started searching for anyone she knew, praying that she didn’t know any of them. But then she saw Sister Edith. It was almost like she was sleeping, but the blood stains coming from her chest betrayed that thought. It can’t be her, she didn’t deserve this. Sharp breaths were coming in and out of her chest willing herself not to cry.  
“What is the little christian going to cry” the blonde mocked cruelly. Black thoughts clouded her mind as she gave him a look that would scare the vilest demons in Hell  
“ I promise you, you’ll never see me cry, not in your wildest dreams. If someone must get hurt it won’t be me.” she hissed.  
“You sure about that,” he sang back, but before the blonde could do any more the brunette interceded,  
“That’s enough brother. We made a promise. I intend to keep it.” He almost commanded as he looked back at her with what she thought might be the smallest bit of empathy. He opened the church doors to an array of tall brutes of heathen men some with her Sisters of Christ.  
She straighten her posture to that of queen, fully intending to show no mercy, give no quarter, and make them pay. Her thoughts as she entered the place that used to be for God were now a place for vengeance. You’ll wish you never met me, never betrayed me, and never set a foot in this country. For what you did to these people, you’ll regret ever crossing me.


	2. What Have I Done to Deserve This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aethelswith meets with the Sons of Ragnar and doesn't get the outcome she expected.

The heavy wooden doors opened, showing the defilement of the holy church. Dried blood spatter showered the stone floor while the glass windows were in shards. These heathens were like a swarm of locusts that destroyed everything in their path. 

The two men loudly entered the room, showing off Aethelswith like some pretty trinket.

“Look what we found wandering the halls” the brunette announced joyfully to the room like it was of a joke. “A little princess!”

Soon all eyes were her, with a mixture of stares ranging from mild curiosity to hatred, to lust, and even boredom. Notably, the brunette grip tightened around her arm, as he was afraid of her running away from him into another's arms. Growing rather annoyed by his touch, she turned to the man holding her, 

“You may release me now, you’ve fulfilled the deal” she replied coldly to the brunette, tearing her arm from his grip. “ I can walk the rest of the way without your assistance.” 

Giving him a last cold stare with icy courtesy showing him the hatred of him and his kind in her voice  
“Enjoy the earings,” she said smiling enjoying the rather dumbstruck look on his face. 

Ignoring the stares and crude words of the heathens, she made long strides towards the Sons of Ragnar. Only three of the five were longing about at the altar. “With any luck the other two are dead,” she thought to herself.   
A giant of a man with a long blonde ponytail was noticeably older than the other two. With little doubt in her mind, she thought it was Ragnar’s eldest son Bjorn Ironside. Next to him, was a brunette man with long hair that openly showed sympathy for her situation. Finally, sitting on the altar table with his legs bound was Ivar.

Only giving a glimpse towards Ivar, she could see that he had drastically changed. It was not his looks, even though his hair had changed, but rather his countenance. He seemed darker, filled with wrath, and crueler giving no sympathy towards her situation. Now that he held the power instead of her family, why would she expect anything but cruelty from him? She thought to herself, “What did you ever see in him? He’s a Liar, a heathen. It was never going to work out. He was supposed to fall in love with you, not the other way around. Then again, it’s not like you truly trusted him anyway.” 

“Princess Aethelswith, it’s been a while hasn’t it?” He purred cruelly, most likely enjoying seeing her come so low. He was beautiful in catastrophic kind of way. Like an inferno of flame, burning everything in his path and filling the world with a destroying light. 

“I have come to speak to the leader of your army. If it is not you, then I have nothing to say to you,” she responded coolly. Some of the other men snickered in the background but with a swift look from Ivar, it became deathly quiet.

“That would be me, Princess. I am Bjorn Rangarson.” he paused taking a look over to the men that had presented her. “Did they harm you?” he asked with some concern in his voice.

“No, they actually showed a surprising amount of restraint” She replied  
“Then, why are you here if you were not forcibly taken from your hiding place?” Bjorn questioned as if he didn’t believe she would willingly face them.

“ I have come to give myself over as a hostage to the leaders of your army in the hopes of stopping the carnage here.”

She knelt before him in a sign of submission, of acceptance in her situation though it dealt a blow to her pride. It was best to make them think that she was a scared, weak Christian trying to save herself from torture, rape, and death.

In one swift movement, she tore off the white veil covering her hair. A golden circlet was woven through her thick, curly brown locks that reached to mid back. Unweaving the golden trinket she offered it to him in a sign of peace. Through the men seemed dumbstruck by the act. Her hair had never been seen by male other than her family and those of the court. The church always said a woman's hair was a great temptation to men. Perhaps, she thought to herself, it would tempt these men as well.  
As the room silenced around her, she finally understood. It might have been her crowning beauty, besides her full lips and pale skin. Sure, she didn’t have beautiful blonde hair nor a tall forehead, but her grandfather said to use her beauty as a weapon. “Use your beauty as an advantage over the power of men. It is one of your most dangerous weapons. Coupled with your intelligence, I’m sure you can bend any man to your will,” her grandfather had said to her after her betrothal to Magnus ended and the men of the court started surrounding her like wolves circling a wounded doe.   
She played the naive innocent, unaware of men’s attention, knowing that if she returned any of them they would expect more than just a friendly word. That’s why she thought the best place in this earthly world was Streoneshalh. She was free to be herself, and not have to worry about the attention of men. Well, that was until the Heathens came made it a living Hell.

Kneeling before Bjorn Ironside she began her speech hoping to appease him,   
“I only ask for mercy. Mercy for myself and the women your men have taken as prisoners. I know that this war is against my grandfather and that you will not stop until you get revenge for your father, but surely I will be of more use to you alive than dead.” 

“ How so, if not to make an example of you to your family?” Ivar sneered gaining a dark look from his brothers. She fought the urge to look at him. To show him the hatred that she now held for him in her heart. He promised that he would never hurt her or anyone she cared about. “They were lies. Everything he’s ever said to you is a lie. For every bone he’s broken, he probably breaks a promise.”

“ I’m sure that ransom will make you all very wealthy.” she paused gauging their reactions showing only mild interest. She quickly thought of something that might whet their appetites more. She needed time to find a way to help the people they had taken.  
“ If it is not wealth that you desire, surely with the fair treatment of myself and Princess Heluna, could gain you land. In addition to this, your men could gain wealth as well. I will personally use my own funds to ransom the women they took. ”

This had garnered some interest from the men around her. She could see the gleam of curiosity from the Bjorn and his brothers.

“My grandfather is king of Wessex, Mercia, and East Anglia, it is well within his power to grant you that land. Was that not King Ragnar’s ambition, to have farming land here? As for Northumbria, it is in a weakened state from your overwhelming victory. Surely the barter of Princess Heluna, the youngest child of the Queen Ealhswith, will also grant you either land or wealth as long she is treated fairly and with the respect of a free woman of royalty.” She proposed waiting for their reply. 

It was a strange kind of agony waiting for Bjorn’s reply. What was he thinking? Was he just as cruel as any other heathen? Was he calling her bluff” She wondered. She didn’t know much about him other than his prowess as a warrior and that he was only the half brother of Ivar, but he did not give off the vibe of cruelty. 

“Whether or not land or wealth is given to us, we will make sure you and Princess Heluna are not harmed. Our vengeance is not with you or Princess Heluna. Should your father come to ransom you we will not stand in his way, but I have met him, he is not the type to avoid a fight.” 

He was right of course, her father had a temper, but it was never raised towards her. He would rather kill every heathen that he set eyes upon than negotiate a end to unnecessary bloodshed that the heathens would bring. But she needed to seal the deal between them, hopefully, Bjorn kept his word better than his brother.

 

“Do you swear on your god Odin? I have been made promises before and have found that they are rarely kept if they are not sworn on by one’s beliefs. Even less so from people of opposing beliefs.” she ushered out not breaking eye contact with Bjorn. Before could utter any words the man that brought her to the sons of Ragnar stepped through the crowd.

 

“I’m afraid Bjorn you have no right to take the Princess since I found her first she is my prisoner” the brunette man from before strode forward advancing like a lion on the prowl. What could he possibly want from me? Please let in be the gold.” she thought to herself as she removed her body from the kneeling position. There was no way in God’s good earth that she would be seen submitting to some upstart heathen who thought he was bartering for a farm animal.

“Princess Aethelswith is a vital prisoner King Harald. That needs to be, in the meantime, unharmed and given your and your brother's reputation with Christians I can hardly expect you to restrain yourself” Ivar spoke with thinly veiled anger, that sounded to her more like a child not getting the toy he wanted. 

“I meant no disrespect nor question of your or your brothers leadership, but if you take my prisoner then you will have to take of these men’s women, of course, I have no problem as long you treat each of allies the same as myself.” 

Taking in the looks of the various men around she saw none of them wanted to part with the people and riches they perceived they had the right to own. Would the sons of Ragnar give her over to some cocky king despite saying that no harm would come to her, that their vengeance was not towards her? Rallying his fellow soldiers, this King Harald began 

“Isn’t the victory of battle what we relish? Shouldn't we crush King Egbert's army on the field of battle with Odin beside in VIctory? ” this King Harald spoke launching their army into a frenzy, “They are but weak Christians! We are the masters here not them.” 

His charisma infected the others. With the hall erupting in like calls to “kill the Christians”, “to fight with Odin”, and “revegne for Ragnar”. Bjorn looked at her with real pity in his eyes, and she knew what he going to do. For a moment her masked fell, and the fear showed on her face and the sons of Ragnar saw it.

“She is yours King Harald”, Bjorn said getting up from his chair fully showing his massive height and intimidating figure, “but she is still an important hostage. The wealth would hardly be yours if she is damaged in any way”. 

“Of course, I mean no harm towards her” King Harald spoke confidently, not intimidated by Bjorn close proximity towards him. She quickly got in between the two men. “I can’t save myself, but I can try and save Heleuna,” she thought as she pressed her gold circlet to Bjorn.

“Please keep these trinket as a sign of good will between us. If that cannot happen please let it buy good treatment for Princess Heleuna. She knows little of your language or customs and is now in the hands of the men who blood eagled her father.” she said pleading with him, couldn’t her pretty face do some good for once?

“I will make sure she isn’t harmed. Sigurd’s not the type to hurt women” He reassaured her gently pushes her towards new captor. Taking a deep breath, she calmed her nerves and put on her stony facade.

She really looked at her captor now. His eyes like a frozen arctic wasteland, his tattoos like venomous snakes Slithering across his face, black leather armor like charred bones woven together with the lives he had taken. “He must be some sort of demon just like the rest of them” she cursed her luck

That idiotic smug face looked at her with the satisfaction of getting his ‘prisoner’ back. If she was a different person, a warrior, she would have punched that idiotic smirk off his handsome face, but she learned long ago to repress her true emotions. 

“Hey God, it's me, Aethelswith. Are angry with me? Have I done something to upset you? It this some sort of test?” her mind questioned angrily. Had God abandoned her and his people? What was his plan for her or had he decided to wipe his hand of his sinful people? She needed to focus on anything that would subdue her anger and stop her from showing her fear of this new uncertainty as she took tiny steps towards him.

With Ivar, she knew somewhat with what she would be dealing with. He was an intelligent yet cocky individual with an eagerness to prove himself. This ‘King Harald” was a new player on the board. A wild card that she had not thought would enter the playing field. Shouldn’t the Sons of Ragnar have more sway over their army? Or was the Great Heathen Army only simply connected by the memory of Rangar and the glory of fighting for vengeance?

She started winding her hair back together behind the veil to keep her from tearing off her nails or blindly punching the next person who touched her or said some comment.

“Why are you putting your hair away?” he said while trying to reach out to her hair. He was too close. Bile threaten to come up from her throat, she knew what he really wanted to do to her and it didn’t involve her with the veil on.

“If you like it so much, I sure you can cut some off when you ransom me to my father,” she said back to him, fed up with faking that everything was fine. In the back of her mind, she knew it would be better to play nice and to get her captor on her side, but she had enough of it. How was this fair? How was this right? Was this part of God’s plan for her.

His arm shot out and gripped her wrist dragging her from the crowded church. Her heart sank, she wanted to run, go back and hide, find her father and he would tell her everything would be fine. It was going to happen, just like it happened to every other woman here. He wasn’t going to listen to sons of Ragnars and he wasn’t going to listen to her cries of mercy. 

Taking a look back at the alter that once held the mysteries of faith, she stared at the youngest son of Rangar. His heartbreakingly beautiful eyes stared back at her not hiding his rage. Her blue eyes bore into his saying “this is all your fault. I should of let them kill you. The whole world would’ve been better off”.

Several of King Harald men joined the two of them as they left the church hall, leaving the dead bodies and the rejoicing Heathens behind. As her gaze return to large hand clamped to her wrist asking one final question “What Have I Done to Deserve This?”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think. It really helps me to stay motivated.


	3. Ocean Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for assualt and mention of rape.  
> Aethelswith has a discussion with King Harald and unforeseen actions arise.

Winding streets that once bustled with activity now laid discarded of life. Those unlucky enough not to get away lay heaped in the streets. They would never get read their last rites, hear their last confession, say goodbye to their loved ones, or see another sunrise. The heathens would never see it that way. They killed indiscriminately. The old, the young, women, men, children, no one was spared. In death, one is supposed to be at peace, but these people were cruelly cut down. A cold dark numbness stabbed her chest. That dark insidious voice slithered in her ear again This is your fault. All your fault. You should be dead. You deserve what you get. His hand still held her wrist, making her keep up with his long strides. His hands were the ones of a killer, hard, leathery, and large. Many of his men were in a jovial mood, joking and talking with him as if they didn’t even notice the slaughter. She had stopped actively translating what they were saying. Achy tiredness consumed her body as her mind buzzed with numbness. She didn’t want to think anymore. She didn’t want to feel the guilt, the fear, the anger, that all came back to her. Most of all she was sick of what she would have to do get this man on her side. A rapid tug on her wrist pulled her towards her captor. Noticing his strength for the first time

“Stay close to me until we get to my area of the camp” Harald whispered,” don’t let them get a rise out of you.”

“They won’t. Remember what I said earlier” Aethelswith said looking up into his eyes, “My enemies never see me cry”

A smirk crossed his face, “ I will never forget the words that come out of your mouth” _What was that supposed to mean?_ But her thoughts were interrupted the mocks and jeers that came with the arrival into the massive camp. The various men and women sprawled the area like ants upon a piece of fruit. Not far from their camp, she could see their ships. They were never ending on the harbor that once held the small fishing vessels that the townspeople would use. There must have been thousands of these ships in the harbor. How can father every defeat that many men?

“King Harald, I see you got a nice piece of your own!” some man called out coming closer to them interrupting her thoughts, “ I just broke mine in but she won’t stop crying. I hope you have better luck!’ He was an intimidating figure with tanned skin long black hair. But at that moment she didn’t care who he was, what he looked like, he could be a demon from the very depths of Hell, it wouldn’t have mattered. She wanted him to suffer and that would go for any other man that would rape and kill the people of England.

“Jarl Sigefrid, your seem in high spirits” King Harald said in a jovial tone by his face disguised some thinly veiled disgust.

“Yes , I’m one of the lucky ones that got a pretty little one all to myself. No one had her before me. Can you believe it” this Jarl Sigefrid laughed in a guttural tone, “ These Christians are so strange they keep all these maidens and keep them from marrying just to worship their weak god.”

S _tay calm, don’t let him get a rise out of you. She told herself, You’ll suffer in due time Jarl Sigefrid._

“Yes, but you shouldn’t expect all fights to be so easy. After all, these are Christian men, women, and children, not harden warriors. There’s no glory to be gained in killing them.” King Harald replied sounding _almost_ sympathetic.

“ I suppose you’ll want to break your’s in, huh.” Sigefrid said leering at her as he unabashedly took stock of her body, “ not exactly my type. I like them more pliable, this one has an attitude on her face like she’ll put up a fight. But that won’t stop ya, ehh.”

She had to hide her face full of disgust for the man, it was better for this man not to know that she could understand his obnoxious discussion. King Harald faked a jovial laugh in response and said goodbye to the ugly heathen. His hand took to her waist. The grip wasn’t hard and it didn’t hurt, but it had a strange possessiveness to it. Like he wanted everyone in the camp to know that she was his and know that he wouldn’t tolerate it if anyone else took an interest. _If your hand goes any lower, King Harald, I’ll have to cut it off._

They finally came upon his part of the camp. Men and women wearing various degrees of armor all carried the same shield sigil baring yellow colored wood and strange symbols. Closer and closer, A blood red tent came into view. There was no doubt in her mind King Harald’s tent. It was a large warm looking tent covered with thick fabric and furs, but to her, it represented the dreaded possibility of losing her virtue. She was surrounded by people that were directly loyal to King Harald and they wouldn’t stand in his way of her being defiled and any who her heard her screams would think nothing of it. _Maybe he won’t defile me, he’s old enough to have a wife and children. Dear God, please keep me safe from harm. Saint Agatha, Saint Anges protect my virtue and help those women who have lost theirs_. King Harald pushed open the flap of the tent, gesturing for her to enter first.

“Stay here, I’ll be back. Please make yourself comfortable “ How can I be comfortable in an enemy's tent? She thought as she surveyed the place before her. It was actually quite nice considering it belonged to a man who routinely slaughtered Christians. A table set with stools, a wooden wash basin with water, a chamber pot in the corner, but what stood out was the large bed that dominated the area.

“This is Swanhild. She is the leader of my Shieldmaidens. Should I not be there to protect you, she’ll be close by. I’ll let you two get acquainted “ He said gesturing to the tall woman before her just before leaving the tent. _Was this an attempt at being kind or just another way to keep an eye on me?_ Aethelswith thought to herself. Swanhild had tanned leathery skin from hard labor. She was tall and toned with her dirty blonde hair braided back from her face. Her nose looked as if it had been broken several times and her mouth was full with crooked teeth, but she had an honest face and a smile that lit up the tent. _Any woman is preferable to a man_ Aethelswith thought to herself.

 “It's a pleasure to meet you Swanhild, My name is Aethel-” but Swanhild cut her off.

“I know yer name princess the whole camp been talking about ya. But I thought you’d go to the Ragnarsons’s ” _Me too, but God has other ideas._

‘Would you guard the door while I relieve myself” , Swanhild gave a nod as she went to the tent opening. It’s time to test what I information I can get from her. “ Does King Harald often take prisoners?”, Aethelswith asked as she surveyed her ‘guard’. Clearly, she was chosen for her loyalty, if not for her gender.

“No, you’re the first that I know of and he seems to have _really_ taken an interest in ya.” Aethelswith could tell that this Swanhild was making some sort of crude innuendo. Best not to think about what she means.

“ He hates Christians, doesn’t he?” she asked but already knew the answer, every one of these Northmen hated Christians. It was natural for them to hate Christians and for Christians to hate the Northmen.

“ Oh yeah, but he more controlled than his brother. He’s the one yer got to look out for. Halfdan much worst’ Swanhild laughed, as Aethelswith finished her business and moved closer to the shieldmaiden. _Is he the one with the ridiculous haircut?_ She thought to herself but knew better than to voice that opinion

“And he’s the blonde, correct?” Aethelswith said as she surveyed the tent to see if anything could be used as a weapon. Surprisingly, there was a lack of weapons

“Yeah, you should hear what they did to the Christians in Frankia.” Swanhild answered

“What did they do in Frankia?” her voice carried a hint of panic in it, making the shieldmaiden turn to her. Her face held a mixture of hesitation and pity. Almost like she wanted to tell Aethelswith the truth but thought better of it. _Whose knows, telling the truth could have repercussions for her._

“Well, they-” but she was cut off by the fool who brought her here in the first place.

“Am I interrupting anything?” King Harald asked as he looked between them at the entrance of his tent. _Yes! Yes! You were you old fool!_ Aethelswith raged in her mind but put on her mask of civility and etiquette.

“No, not at all King Harald, I was just talking to your shieldmaiden Swanhild. She’s lovely.” He looked so bloody proud of himself, but Aethelswith supposed there was some sort of kindness behind the gesture.

“ Good, I’m glad,” he said with a soft smile as he gave permission for Swanhild to leave King Harald held a charred chicken, piled on top was a pitcher, which assume was some sort of alcoholic beverage. “ I know its probably not what you're used to, but it’s better than nothing,” he said as he put it on the table and began dishing it out on the table.

He brought a large wooden bowl with clean water that he quickly washed his hands with. Aethelswith followed likewise wondering how a man who partook in the slaughtering of innocent people could go on like nothing had happened. What does he think he’s doing? _Is he trying to wine and dine me before he rapes me? How considerate of him._

“Thank you for your consideration, but I am not hungry”, as she said this his face resembles a dog being berated by his master. He seemed at a loss as he ran his hand through his braided hair. An awkward silence hung in the air as they looked at one another. Typical court conversation didn’t apply to the situation.

“ I can find you something else if you do not want to eat this,” he said, _Why would care if I’m hungary?_ I’m his prisoner, his hostage, he shouldn’t care at all

. “No thank you, I have no appetite after what I saw today,” she said quietly admitting to the real reason why she couldn’t eat.

“I suppose you’ll want to discuss my ransom,” Aethelswith said trying to change the subject and the thoughts in her head.

“I don’t believe there will be a ransom or any land given to us. If we want the land we will have to take them. It’s not a matter of negotiation, it’s a matter of blood.” he said like he wouldn’t be killing her people in the future.

“What do you mean? I can assure you that my grandfather, the king, will pay for my safe return” _He must want wealth, right? What heathen didn’t want gold?_

“ The king who the Sons of Ragnar want tortured and killed?’ he asked, “They will never settle for gold or land, not until they have their revenge. Only then you might get peace. “

” I don’t understand if you will not gain anything from taking me then why did you do it? Why did you take me?’ She questioned at her wit’s end, _he must have some logical reason, right?_

“ Queen Alsuag once asked me why I didn't just take a woman once,” he said with regret on his face as he looked to the past. “ Now I realize I should have taken her, but I can’t change the past. I can only learn from my mistakes. So now I take what I want” he said staring at her from across the small table. The room became oppressively small, highlighting the distance between them.

“And what is it that you want King Harald?” her voice barely audible, afraid for him to answer the question she knew the answer to

. “I want many things, but I want most of all is to be King of all Norway” he boasted joyfully with a gleam in his eye. Clearly, _he took great pride in this dream. But a foolish one, as if he become the King of all Norway with Ragnar’s sons to contend with._ “That is a great ambition,” she continued, treading carefully ” You want to be king of all Norway, that means you are in direct conflict with the sons of Ragnar. My ransom can support that dream.”

“Perhaps... but first we will have to face your grandfather’s army. No doubt you’ll father will be fighting and only the outcome will determine our fate.” his eyes continued to rake over her as if he knew her innermost fears.

“I don’t believe in Fate your Grace. I believe in choices.” she paused thinking aloud, “Our choices determine our future and it surely wasn’t fate that made you take me. Was it?”

The heavy silence hung in the air again highlighting the tension between them. Two people so completely different couldn’t find any common ground, could they? _I thought Ivar was different, like he could be trusted and had some good in him, but in the end, they will all break your dream_ s. “You must be tired, you should go to bed” Harald said dodging the question

“Where should I sleep?” Aethelswith asked, expecting him to offer the floor. As long he didn’t touch her anymore, it was doable. ‘In my bed of course” he dark gravelly voice. Cold dread filled her stomach as her hand returned to that familiar clammy nature. An icy chill slithered down her back preparing her the inner battle with fear.

“I can’t, it’s not appropriate”

“What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong with it. I’ll show you”,

He was too close. His claw of a hand gripped her shoulder like a chain holder a prisoner. she could smell the alcohol on his breath as his face stared back at her. I have one tool left in my arsenal, I have to use it. Father better be right. In a swift movement, she grabbed his shoulders and brought her knee as hard as possible in between his legs. He let out a groan as he fell to the ground. _You have to get out now! Go! Go! Go! Find Swanhild! She’ll protect you._ Quickly she moved away from him and sped towards the tent entrance, but a demon blocked the entrance. It was Halfdan, his face full of rage at the scene before him. In a matter of seconds, he descended on her.

“You bitch! What did you do to him” Halfdan screamed at her at bringing as he grabbed a fist of her veil. She could feel him pulling out strands of hair with his strength. His other hand gleamed with a seax as he brought to her neck.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t just kill you now Christian.” he hissed, bringing the blade to kiss her skin. _It would be a sweet death. Quick and clean. No more fear of rape and beatings. Maybe I should let him._ Aethelswith thought to herself, but she had a duty to perform

“ I..I thought he was going to rape me” she said, but it came out as a weak squeak. Halfdan let out a bitter laugh. “He needs a good fuck espiecially after what that bitch did to him.”

He grip loosened around hair as he started putting the seax away. A distraction had caught his attention. _NOW! NOW! DO IT NOW!_ The wooden plate that lay in perfect view. Swiftly she took the plate and whacked him clear across the face. A sickening thud sounded from the contact with the plate, making him drop his blade. She managed to move away from his grasp and grabbed the blade. Tightening her grip, Her knuckles turned stark white.

“Stay away from me!” it was a shrill frantic voice that came from her mouth, “Stay away from me or I swear to God, I’ll kill you!”

“Really, little Christian? Do you even know how to kill a man? Huh?” he said as the blood ran from his nose painting him in crimson, showing that even Northmen can bleed. His eyes shifted in distraction like he was trying to buy time.

The strength of his arms overwhelmed her as this pair of arms swept her into a struggle. A glance showed her who it was. His horrible cold blue eyes shone back into hers as the scuffle continued. He barked out something unrecognizable to her. It was clouded with anger and icy rage. He was dragging her back to bed she realized as more and more of her energy left her body in the battle. In a violent surge, her attacker threw her onto the bed gripping her wrists above her head making her lose the blade. The echo of her pulse ran in her ears as she froze. Her eyes squeezed tight to the oncoming pain that she knew there was no hope to fight off. She told herself to imagine herself anywhere else and drown in happy memories instead of terror.

_Think of the crisp autumn breeze, the smell of sweet lavender and old books, think of Alfred, Aethelred, think of father, think of something good._

His hand lightly caressed the side of her face. It was violently soft as he brushed aside a strand of her hair that had escaped her veil in the struggle. The touch was soft in a way that no killer should possess. His gravelly voice spoke softly to her,

"Open your eyes," but she didn't want to look at the cold eyes of a murder." open your eyes Aethelswith" _Don’t say my name, you don’t have the right to say my name. Shut up, just shut up!_  

"Look at me Aethelswith,” his voice whispered gently, but it was too close. She could feel the warmth of his breathe against her skin, his body weight making the bed dip underneath them, his muscular leg in between her’s as he caged her to the bed.

“Aethelswith, please,” he pleaded, It was too late now as she opened her blue orbs to look into his. She could feel the rapid heartbeat in her chest as he held her down. His chest fell up and down as he stared back at her. His eyes were deep blue like the ocean that would drown a person that looked for too long. His eyes were made of the sea that destroyed ships, storms that raged, and frigid crashing waves that swept people into a watery grave.

“I’m not going to hurt you” his gruff voice whispered, “I promise you that. And when I make a promise, I never break it”. He looked at her with honest eyes, but she knew it was a lie. Liar. _You’re going to be just like him. Give me a sweet promise now and break it later_.

“All you people do is break things,” she said back. The back of her mind screams that she shouldn’t be saying this but it bubbled up spilling all the anger, heartbreak, broken dreams, the guilt. It wasn’t his fault entirely, but he was the current target.

“You and your people ruin lives and for what? Glory? Wealth? Fame? Or for some sadistic pleasure, it gives you when slaughter and rape Christians?” it was no louder than a whisper but the venom was clear in her voice. His other hand let go of the grip on her wrist letting her scramble away from him. He had no response as he continued to look at her. A heavy silence hung between them. Was is guilt? Regret? Anger? Pity? She couldn’t read his face and perhaps in the back of mind she shouldn’t have said it even if it was true.

“Try and get some sleep, Princess.” he said with a sigh leaving the tent entirely only giving a look of his ocean eyes back into hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think it really helps me to continue writing  
> Saint Anges and Saint Agatha are some of the martyrs associated with the Catholic Chruch. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agnes_of_Rome https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agatha_of_Sicily

**Author's Note:**

> Aethelswith was a real princess during this time. She was the only daughter of Aethelwulf and his wife Obsurh. She married at fifteen to King Burgred of Mercia but had no children.  
> The Fall of Streoneshalh occurred from 867-870 under raids lead by Ivar the Boneless and Ubba. It was a double monastery for men and women. They were separated into gendered units. The ruins of Whitely Abbey today are nothing like what it would have been in the 800s. These ruins come from the late medieval period. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whitby_Abbey,  
> Er den lille sauen tapt?- Is the little sheep lost?  
> Nå bror, jeg vil ikke at du skal skade den vakre jenta for mye. Afterall, er hun ikke modig for å komme ut med å leke med oss?”- Now, brother, I don't want you to hurt the beautiful girl too much. Afterall, is she not brave to come out with us?
> 
> \- Please give me feedback! I really appreciate it.


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